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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276238">calculated risk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicTurnabout/pseuds/CosmicTurnabout'>CosmicTurnabout</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Solus zos Galvus is not a nice man, Vaginal Sex, porn with (some) plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicTurnabout/pseuds/CosmicTurnabout</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Y'shtola confronts Emet-Selch after he pulls her from the Lifestream, with results neither one of them could have expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch &amp; Y'shtola Rhul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here, have some filth with a tiny bit of my weird headcanon about how aether works!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Emet-Selch. Wait, pray.” </p><p>Emet-Selch stopped mid-pace, boots crunching on thick undergrowth. The last thing he expected—or wanted—at this hour was a visitor. Or was stalker more accurate? It was well past sundown, and he had been searching for a likely tree to sleep in—the Rak’tika Greatwood had no shortage of surprisingly comfortable trees, he had discovered. Most of the beasts that lumbered or slithered under its branches had long since retired to their lairs. Aside from the cool night wind and the occasional call of a nocturnal bird, the forest was nearly silent. He had not heard his pursuer until now. Until she had wanted to be heard. It had been a woman’s voice emanating from the depths of the wood. </p><p>He did not feel any immediate fear, but he was vaguely surprised. He had no idea someone had been following him. Slowly he twisted back and forth, eyes primed for any sudden movement, ears pricked for footfalls. He had not extended seeking tendrils of aether yet, but he was prepared to. The voice had originated from somewhere behind and to the left; other than that, it was hard to tell its distance or anything else of note. The Greatwood seemed to swallow sound to some degree, as dense in foliage as it was. At any rate, the voice had been familiar. </p><p>A dry rustling of leaves made him look over his shoulder to where someone was emerging from deeper shadows several yalms away. The figure resolved into the slender Miqo’te woman he had saved from the Lifestream a scant few bells earlier. Y’shtola Rhul. </p><p>She was a scholar of some sort, he thought, having marked the angular tattoo of the Circle of Knowing winding around her neck upon meeting the Scions at the Crystarium. He did not know much else about her, but plucking her from the aether seemed to have given him a... certainty about that particular fact. Certainty... certainty tickled something in his brain. Was there aught different about her? For a moment her image shimmered in the misty gray of night. But that was folly. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He probably needed sleep. </p><p>Most curious. Despite their interesting encounter earlier, she was one of the last he’d have expected to approach him alone for any reason. What did she want? </p><p>“Hello, Scion,” he said, turning to face her fully. “How long have you been following me?”</p><p>“A fair while. You tromp about like an adamantoise. I daresay even Alphinaud could track you.” </p><p>“Very amusing. In my defense, I do not have much experience living under the stars.” He gestured upward. “I have had some little practice these past few days, but I have not as yet managed to acquire the skill of a woodsman."</p><p>The Miqo’te drew up a yalm or two. “Let us dispense with the silly preludes, for both of our sakes.” Her tone and expression brooked no argument, arms crossed over her chest. Her tail flicked irritably behind her,  “I need to speak with you. Away from the others. Away from <em>her</em>, especially. That is why I followed you so far.” </p><p>There was no need to ask who <em>she</em> was. The Warrior of Light was currently lounging somewhere in Slitherbough no doubt, planning her attack on the local Lightwarden; Emet-Selch did quite look forward to that. And Y’shtola wanted to speak to him away from her prying eyes in particular, did she? </p><p>“Surely the hero needs your sharp mind to put together a plan of action concerning your foray into the Qitana Ravel, hm?”</p><p>“She does not need me all hours of the night, Ascian.” </p><p>He shrugged. “Well then, what is it? Have you come to thank me again? I was just about to find a place to sleep, so best make it quick.” </p><p>“That is—“ She was jostled suddenly—by a thought, perhaps—and the pause was abrupt. Uncertainty sounded wrong on her tongue. “I am not quite sure how to...” If Emet-Selch had not seen how she carried herself earlier—and how she had spoken with such stark assuredness—he would have thought her shy! When she found her voice once more, it was assertive, but still lacking in strength. “As to <em>that</em>, I said everything I needed to back when you rescued me.” </p><p>“Oho!” Emet-Selch gave a scandalous smile. “I see. You are flustered. There are many pleasant ways to offer thanks to a benefactor, some that cannot be realized except in private company. Perhaps that is why you come?” Zero chance this was the case, but he had seen an opening and rushed to poke at it. If she had the gall to stalk him through the forest for sport, he could strike back, with pointed words at least. </p><p>The Miqo’te huffed. “You cannot be serious.”</p><p>“You immediately assume <em>that</em> is what I meant, do you? What kind of mind must you have, scholar of the Scions? I should find it fascinating to probe, were I granted the opportunity.”</p><p>Mayhap it was a trick of the light, dim and scattered as it was, but Emet-Selch thought he saw a shiver run through the Miqo’te’s body at his comment. Now what was <em>that</em> all about? He had made a bawdy joke at her expense, nothing more. In spite of himself, his curiosity deepened. Her eyes were locked on his. </p><p>“I see I am not going to provoke you to anger. Pity. I was growing bored with no one to argue with; you will have to forgive the jab. I meant no real offense.” </p><p>Y’shtola was still staring at him from a safe distance. It fair looked as if she were examining some strange relic she could not immediately see a use for, and he did not like being studied. After bearing a moment or two of her scrutiny, he made a shooing motion at her. She did not seem the overly prudish type, but maybe he had struck a nerve. </p><p>“Really, Scion. I spoke only in jest. You do not need to bore holes in me. Now in truth, what did you come seeking me for? And away from the others, as you put it?” </p><p>Without pretense she strode closer, leaves swirling up in small clouds at the quickness of her pace. Indeed, she had quite the light, calculated step. </p><p>“I... want to know what you mean by all of this,” said Y’shtola. “Revealing yourself to us, offering help. You saved me, yes, and for that I am admittedly grateful. But you cannot have done it out of the goodness of your heart. The others might be content to let you heel us as long as you are well-behaved, but I harbor misgivings.” </p><p>Strangely, Emet-Selch had an inkling that this was not the full truth of it. Her... aura seemed to suggest duplicity. Why would she lie? “Come now. Haven’t I proven my intentions? I have laid out everything I intend to do, and everything I most assuredly will <em>not</em> do. That, I promise. Was my rescuing you not enough to ease your worries?” </p><p><em>Her aura</em>? he thought suddenly. <em>What about her aura</em>? Why had it come to mind? He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a split second. He hoped she would think it a show of frustration, not puzzlement. All mortals had aetherial auras, but Y’shtola’s was much more... readable than it had been before. <em>Before? Before what</em>? </p><p>A slight breeze shifted the branches overhead, and in that moment Emet-Selch could see her face more clearly. Less than a yalm away, her eyes were dull in the shadow-barred moonlight. He had not noticed until now. “Have you lost your sight, Scion?” he asked, not caring that she had yet to answer his previous questions. Pale, glassy eyes were a sign of magic misuse, a poisoning of one’s very aether, and usually indicated blindness. He did not think it had happened when he had rescued her from the Lifestream. </p><p>She stiffened visibly. “I suffered an accident some time back, but I can see perfectly well, I assure you.” </p><p>Emet-Selch found himself even more curious, as he always was when matters of aether and souls were in the mix. Vestiges of a life spent in contemplation in Amaurot, he supposed. He had studied such phenomena countless years ago. “Whatever it was that happened to you, you can now see the aether of others, yes? And little else. That is not so very different from what we Ascians can do, in a way.” </p><p>Seemingly spurred by those words, the Miqo’te took a step closer, quirking an eyebrow. Much nearer and she would be able to rest her head on his chest. “Actually, that is... that is why I felt compelled to seek you out.” </p><p>That had more of the sound of truth to it, but this woman—who had spoken so confidently not long ago in the clearing, and right after being pulled from a mass of pure aether, no less!—did not look quite so sure of herself. She looked somewhat... vulnerable, in fact. A half-smile hovered on her lips, but her eyes held smoldering fire, like she was vexed at having followed him at all. And it hardly seemed possible, but she was staring at him more intensely now than ever. What did she bloody want? </p><p>Emet-Selch could not keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Oh? In plain words, Scion. If you are not here to ascertain my loyalty, then what <em>are</em> you here to do?” </p><p>He thought she would bounce back with a sharply worded reply, but Y’shtola was silent for a moment. Her lightly curled fist tapped her chin in a manner that spoke of habit. Then she opened her mouth. </p><p>“Your aether.” Plainly as he ever could have wanted. Her hand had frozen against her chin. “I want to study your aether.” She extended her other hand toward his face. He could see magic sparking at her fingertips. He did not think she would attempt to attack him outright, not when she had come alone and unarmed like this, but he could not be sure. Wanting to stop her—moved by some unknowable instinct perhaps—he reached out swiftly and took the Miqo’te’s chin. Tilting it up with a jerk, he stared directly into her milky white eyes. Both hands dropped to her sides almost instantly, whatever she had planned to do forgotten for the nonce. Her mouth hung agape. Curiously, he felt a strange... something pass through him just then, like a ripple of warmth. </p><p>“Did I not tell you all that I would lend my knowledge and strength to your cause if you but asked?” His voice was quiet, commanding. “Only if you <em>asked</em>, hm? I must needs be cautious with how I impart what I know. I am not some new aetherial phenomenon to be poked and prodded at your leisure, Scion.” </p><p>Y’shtola’s throat worked. Her expression had changed completely the second he had touched her. “This close, I—gods, I never should have let my guard down.” Her voice was quivering.</p><p>“Yes.” He smiled, not letting it touch his eyes. “You are overwhelmed, and no wonder. I saw your soul. Held it in my very palm. You understand now there are things I can teach you that no one else alive can.” </p><p>She shook her head as best she could while clutched in his grasp. “It is not that. You are absolutely overflowing with aether.” </p><p>He frowned. “Whatever do you mean? We are all of us made up of aether. What is different about me, pray?” </p><p>“Everything,” she said breathlessly. “I can see you more clearly, more <em>sharply</em> than anyone I’ve ever come across since... y-you pulled me out of the Lifestream.” That quivering gained the heat of anger now. “What did you do to me, Ascian?” </p><p>A slight tremor ran through Emet-Selch as he realized that he... did not know himself. He had not pulled a soul from the Lifestream for thousands of years, yet her rambling made some kind of wild sense. <em>You have not done this since you wore the robes of an Amaurotine, you thrice-damned fool! And even then, you only experimented with beasts, not men</em>! Careless of him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. Something bizarre had been happening the moment she walked out of the trees, revealing herself. The noticeable change in her aura, the ripple that had gone through him upon touching her—he could not remember what that indicated, exactly, but he could surmise. The smile reached his eyes now. It was not a kind smile.</p><p>“You poor creature,” he crooned, showing a fair amount of teeth. He wondered if she could see that. He pinched her chin a bit tighter. “That is a side effect of the extraction process, nothing I did purposefully. This is something that happens when we Ascians interact with souls in the Lifestream. I believe our aether is in resonance, which explains your sharpened sensibilities.” </p><p>The Miqo’te’s ears twitched in frustration. “Resonance.” She spat the word. “So that is why I felt as if—as if I were being drawn to you like some bloody <em>beacon</em>!” </p><p><em>She came to me like a lost lamb, partially unaware of what she was doing or why</em>. Aether worked in strange ways, some that even he did not fully understand. And the resonance had affected him as well, if not as strongly. To learn something new, so many years removed from times of eld! There was some joy in that, though having needed a mortal to do so was a bitter pill. </p><p>“Again, nothing I consciously had a hand in. Would you rather I had left you to die?” </p><p>“No,” she almost gasped. She looked scandalized. “No, of course not. As I said, I am thankful. And much as I loathe to admit it, the effect is beautiful.” Her voice sounded somewhat like it had right after he had plucked her out of the Lifestream, when she’d said she’d done something exceedingly reckless. </p><p>“I will teach you about this effect, if you wish.” He realized he was telling the truth. Mostly, anyway, and not out of compassion. This would be another thread tying him to the hero and her group, nudging them further toward trust he could wield like a knife. </p><p><em>I can learn as well</em>, the oldest part of him whispered, so softly he strained to hear. <em>When last have I have learned anything of real use</em>? </p><p>Y’shtola wrenched out of his grasp, looking more herself than she had since first approaching him. “Yes. You will, Ascian. I cannot quite believe I’m accepting your offer, but I suppose I’m in a mood for taking risks.” And before he could even think to react, before he could blink, she was pulling his face to hers. </p><p>It had been a very long time since Emet-Selch had been shocked. He supposed he was due. When her lips found his, locking against them with a vigor he would not have expected from the collected scholar, he gave an intake of breath that she swallowed easily, clamping her mouth even more firmly over him. His hands went to her shoulders, but instead of pushing her away, he found he was bundling her closer, pulling himself into the kiss as much as guiding her. These mortal vessels and their damnable desires! </p><p>He did not know how long the kissing went on. It was not so much passionate as ravenous, one hungry mind yearning to devour another. Flesh was only part of the deal, but it was rather a large part. Coherent thought fled, and Emet-Selch let it go. Y’shtola directed this dance, interspersing kisses with the occasional bite or sigh, and unlike other times when he had kissed mortals—his empress, consorts, all manner of flirtatious hangers-on—he could almost... <em>feel</em> her aetherial aura tugging at him, without even attempting to fix its origin point. It was like to the sensation of lightning aether setting your hair on end, but felt under the skin rather than on the scalp. New, and not unpleasant. </p><p>When she finally broke away, he spent half a heartbeat gathering himself. Mayhap this was not what she had intended when she first began following him, but this was what the aetherial resonance had led to. Mayhap this was part of the “learning process,” if he could call it that. </p><p>And... well. The warmth gathering in his belly did not discriminate. He did not hate a pretty form. Not at all. </p><p>“This is how you plan to get what you want?” he asked. They both breathed deeply through their noses; in that moment, he was as mortal as she. “I just said I would teach you. Do you think seducing me will get me to divulge secrets I would not reveal otherwise?”</p><p>“I do not rightly know,” said Y’shtola, who to her credit sounded a mite fed up with herself. “But touching you helps me to... I suppose the word would be ‘feel’ the effect more strongly.” With a tight smile—or was that a grimace?—she placed her hands on his epaulets and began pushing him to the ground. Standing stock still he resisted, mirth twisting his face.</p><p>“Are you really planning to mount me here on the forest floor, Scion?” </p><p>Y’shtola made an exasperated sound, but continued to push down even harder. “Do not for one heartbeat think that I am not <em>disgusted</em> with myself for indulging my curiosity thus.” </p><p>“Oh, as you say.” He had to admit, along with being a chance to learn—chaotic as it was—this turn of events was also highly amusing. He had been known to indulge his curiosity himself, and quite often too; in a way, he could hardly blame her. “I suppose I am to be poked and prodded after all.” He let her push him the rest of the way down. </p><p>“In truth, I think if I spend even a few seconds pondering what I am doing right now, I am like to die of embarrassment. As it stands—gods! Get that revolting grin off your face.”</p><p>“So you <em>can</em> see that.” They were both on the leaf-strewn ground now, in an area screened by several trees and tall bushes; Emet-Selch on his back, Y’shtola kneeling before his outstretched legs. Oh, she had brought the cheek out in him, all right. “If I may be so bold, a willingness to make prolonged physical contact with me implies some form of trust.” </p><p>“This is not a change of heart, or a matter of my trusting you,” she said impatiently. She leaned over him so that her lips were ilms from his again. Her pupils had blown wide, from what little he could make of them. “I am suspicious of you still, that is no lie, but as to why I approached you... well, I daresay you know now. It is simple scholarly curiosity. I need to—<em>gods</em>, I can barely bring myself to voice it!—I need to feel this resonance more deeply. Rarely have I ever been so shaken.” This time it was she that grinned like a wolf. “Experience goes a long way toward understanding a thing. And I am no stranger to going great lengths for knowledge.” </p><p>She reached down to search through the folds of his clothing for something to pull down, and he took the liberty of shaking his arms out of his coat. “As you say, my dear Scion. But it is hard to tell the difference here between a woman seeking knowledge and a woman leaping on a man she is desperate to bed.” He had hoped to get a rise out of her, but she remained focused on her task. He clicked his tongue. “Will this upset your white-haired friend, I wonder? He seems jealous of you, unless I miss my guess. In fact, I think he rather wants to—“</p><p>That did it; she slapped him open-palmed so quickly and with such mad force that his head snapped sideways, cheek slamming into dirt. </p><p>“Speak of this in front of the others and I will kill you, no matter how useful you are,” she said, her voice quiet iron. “We have the means, Emet-Selch. We have killed your kind before.” </p><p>To his great surprise—and no small carnal delight—he felt his cock give its own response to those words, especially the delicious way she had bitten off his name. This would not be so light and harmless an experience as he had first imagined. The bloody woman was fearless! She had gone back to rifle through his various layers of petticoats, pushing them aside to gain access to his aching loins. Now he was lying nearly naked on his own coat, his gloves and undergarments the only items he had not yet shed or had removed by this most unlikely of partners. He laughed, his head falling back into the grass, the retort he had prepared failing to reach his lips for the nonce. Despite her desire for knowledge, she would not let him forget that at the end of the day, he was an enemy. </p><p>“You are an absolute minx,” Emet-Selch said. “Look what you’ve done to me already, Scion.” He nodded toward the bulge between his legs, and clasped his hands across his chest. “Well, if I am to be an experiment, go on. <em>Learn </em>what you will.” </p><p>Y’shtola shook her head, one ear giving a violent twitch of... what? Petulance? That did not seem right from what he knew of her, scant as it was, but much had happened to change his perspective in the past few minutes. She swept her hands down his chest, then up the insides of his legs, stopping just below his groin. Her brow was furrowed now, with the look of one studying a manuscript that had long resisted interpretation. “The image is just so <em>clear</em>. And when I kissed you... I really could see <em>everything</em>.” She chuckled, low and dark. What “everything” was would remain a mystery, apparently. At least for now. “This truly is absurd of me. I think I have never done anything so foolhardy in my whole life. But you can be certain I will learn much. Be good, and you may enjoy this.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Emet-Selch’s eyebrows rose. “Then hop to, my—oh.” He exhaled as Y’shtola plucked his undergarments up and fished out his cock with a deftness belying her demeanor. Despite the cool of the night, her hand was surprisingly hot against him, and she dug her nails in ever so slightly, enough to make him wince, but not enough to make him want to flinch away. She slid her hand up and down, giving a twist at the top, urging the droplets that had already collected there to slide down the flushed head of his cock. This lessened the friction, and she began to stroke him faster, more urgently, to the point where he almost began to fret at how long he would last. <em>That</em> would be a humiliation he could not tamp down so easily!</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“When I do this,” said Y’shtola, “your aether goes rather wild. I never thought you’d be one to enjoy the carnal delights, but you do have a man’s body.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Of course I enjoy them,” said Emet-Selch, somewhat offended. His voice came out less angry than he had wanted, though, with her hot little hand climbing him and giving those lovely twists. But talking took his mind at least partially off the wonderful feeling, lessening the chance of him erupting much too soon. “I have lived among your kind for longer than you can imagine. I have experienced everything worth <em>doing </em>in a mortal body.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I suppose you have, at that,” she admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So where, pray tell, did you learn to be so adept at pleasing a man?” Blessedly, she had slowed down on him just a bit. “I wouldn’t think a scholar such as yourself would have time to develop such... skills.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He sucked in a breath when, unbidden, Y’shtola reached down and cupped his balls with her free hand. “That is none of your business.” Until this point they had been neglected, but now she was squeezing them gently in time with her strokes. Then... not so gently, which to his shame sent a blazing streak of pleasure up his back. His legs twitched involuntarily, and he had a difficult time keeping his breathing from becoming overly ragged.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You certainly are a man.” Y’shtola barked a laugh. “Your aether is pulsing now, among other things. I can fair see the conflict in your very mind. You are fighting it. You rather hate being so well pleased by an enemy, I think. But”—another twist of her hand on his cock, another squeeze at his nethers, and another involuntary grunt of pleasure—“part of you decidedly does <em>not </em>hate it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Emet-Selch snorted. It was true, and damn her for it! He had never been in such a position before. Intimacy with an undeniable enemy, a woman who would be destroyed along with every other creature on this shard if his plans came to fruition. If it meant Zodiark’s return, he would gladly see her die, and laugh over her corpse besides! But that conflict, as she put it—that bold red line separating them so starkly one from the other—when it was perverted thus into union, it was... bloody hells, it was <em>exciting</em>! He wanted to spit at the realization, at even admitting it in his own head. Gods, he hated her, and yet...!</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I wonder...” came Y’sholta’s sultry voice, and he saw her head go down. Suddenly his cock was enveloped in the warm velvet of her mouth, slick and wet over him. Hatred burned further into lust, combining, flaring up together into a sublime fire between his legs. The heat licked at his brain, teasing. He could not forget... he could not forget... but oh, she was doing something splendid, her lips against his head, and he could feel more of himself oozing out to be lapped up by her waiting tongue. She sucked at him gently, playfully, which was almost asinfuriating as when she had been forceful.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then, an ilm over him, breath hot against his root, she said, “You look like a torch, Ascian.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He craned his neck forward as best he could, and saw that her aura was shimmering brightly. He could not see what his own looked like, of course, but hers suggested no small amount of enjoyment in what she was doing.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And <em>you</em> look like you are absolutely salivating for my cock.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">That was when she slid her teeth down him, and it was all he could do not to exhale in pain. The sharp edges dragged along his length, just hard enough that he did not doubt she could do serious damage if she felt halfway inclined—and he would not have to do much to nudge her to <em>that </em>course. Miqo’te had fangs, did they not?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She popped off of him after a threatening few heartbeats, frowning. “Do not make me bite down. I will, if you displease me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What, then”—he winced as she resumed her stroking, her hands sliding up skin she had already lightly scraped—“would please you to hear, Scion?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hmm.” Her expression grew pensive, annoyingly so. She thought for a moment, her strokes light and tantalizing, then said, “Tell me you enjoy this. I want to see your aether in resonance with your words.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His face turned sour. “Tell a mortal enemy what I find enjoyable about her pleasuring me?” Hate and lust were a powerful combination, and it was clear she had seen the effect it had on him. There was no point in denying that fact now. “Well, I have agreed to worse deals for far less of a reward, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Still, her rather easy attitude vexed him. Could she really be drawing more from this bond than he? Outside of her aura appearing clearer to his eyes and the slight ripple effect touching her had produced, he could not discern anything markedly different about her aetherial presence. Could the resonance really be as one-sided as that? Jealousy was a strange spice to add to hatred and lust, but it mixed well with them all the same.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><em> <span class="s2">I will draw something out of </span> </em> <span class="s2">her, </span><em><span class="s2">one way or another.</span> </em></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So, Ascian?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He blinked, coming out of his slight reverie. She continued to stroke him—she was seemingly done with using her mouth; pity, that!—but her touch was still reserved, uncommitted. Not as firm as it had been.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I was thinking,” said Emet-Selch, “and I think I should <em>enjoy</em> seeing more of your skin. You have quite the lovely form. It is unfair that I am the only one of us almost completely stripped, no?” </span>
</p><p class="p2">Her hand stopped moving on him. “Hm.” She gave him a quick look up and down, and it was like she was noticing his naked torso for the first time. This was not a woman used to taking direction from others, he suspected. “Oh, very well.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It took only half a heartbeat for Y’shtola to slither out of her top and shift her angular divided dress to the side so that her core was touching him. The dress still clung to her, draping down her back, but she had bared her breasts, and the heat pressing against his belly was almost more than he could stand, especially after her feather-light teasing strokes. Before he could give voice to his desire—very plain, as it happened, with his cock throbbing against her opening like a pulse—she had curved her body to fit his, and slid his member neatly into her folds.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She did not move immediately; she was staring down with a slight smile on her lips. Had she heard him inhale when she had snugged herself onto him? Probably. It was not his fault that he was not as used to this as he might normally be. Oh, he had memories upon memories of being intimate in a mortal body—this one in particular—but he had been asleep for a long time before being awoken again. Memory was not the same as lived experience, and sleep could steal much.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You had best take control soon,” he said huskily, rejoicing in the ridged feel of her around him, “or I will do it myself. I have a mind to fuck you so hard that you are like to walk off-kilter tomorrow morning. The others will surely notice. Little chance they’d think you were riding the <em>evil Ascian </em>until he—“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Her hand swallowed his next words. She had pressed her palm over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks. She wore a metal claw, and it kissed a sharp burning line down to his lips. He tasted blood, twitching, but the pain only made him harder.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">“I suppose I can admit you are a rather pretty specimen of a man,” said Y’shtola, in the tones of a long-suffering teacher scolding a student, “but Twelve </span> <span class="s3">above</span> <span class="s2"> you love to hear yourself talk.”</span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You were the one who wanted to hear me, as I recall,” he said through a gap between her fingers, and she loosened her grip.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“To my great chagrin, yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Finally she began to move, slowly at first, and he nipped against her palm, trying to get her to remove her hand completely, but she seemed intent on keeping him from fully opening his mouth. A few attempts later, Emet-Selch managed to grab skin between his teeth. The Miqo’te gave a short yelp and drew her hand back, eyes flashing as they narrowed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You blush prettily,” he said now that he was unmuffled. She affected to have not heard the remark. From where her claw had pricked skin, a thread of blood slid down to tickle his neck like a fly bite. “Though I cannot say I would liken you to a summer’s day.” That, she rolled her eyes at. Smiling darkly, he reached up to fondle a breast; she allowed it, arching her back to give him access. He still wore his gloves, so her pert nipples felt less taut under his thumb than they might have, but it was a nice distraction all the same. He felt her breaths coming low and leisurely, ghosting over his hands, the only hint that she was enjoying his attentions.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was most definitely not going to put forth much effort to ensure her pleasure, and he did not think she was so stupid as to believe he would. This was a temporary arrangement, half-boiling resentment, half-ecstasy—at least on his part—with the only real goal being the knowledge one could glean from it. If either of them was going to learn something from this unholiest of couplings, it would be him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Eventually Y’shtola began to move at a proper pace, faster than before, gliding up and down on him as he played delicately with her chest and hips. She seemed to be watching with an eagle’s intensity now, drinking him in entire. He tried not to think about what that might entail, instead focusing on how deliciously tight her walls were around his length, stretched as they were to contain him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Your cunt is quite marvelous.” His hands moved from her breasts to dig hard into her hips, gripping the tight black silk that curved over them. “It is almost as if it were shaped for my cock. In fact, I am not sure it wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Some fine filthy thoughts you have,” Y’shtola ground out. “Perhaps they will keep you company when we are done.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, my dear. I shall never think of you again after this.” <em>Hate makes you forget everything</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Joined as they were, it was not much longer before Emet-Selch felt the pace increase as his hips snapped upward to meet hers. She did not seem to mind that he was doing more of the work now, though it was still she who guided him into her depths. Slick, wet sounds echoed around them, and he settled into a comfortable rhythm. He kept his eyes from Yshtola’s, leaning back to stare up through the branches at the winking stars above. Now would be the best time to make an attempt at discovery; with luck she would think him completely taken by the pleasure of the act. Forming a hair-thin tendril of aether, he reached out—he had no idea how acute her sight was when it came to aether, though he guessed it was much improved from before—and brushed against her aura. Immediately, with a suddenness that almost made him recoil, he was batted away with a shocking amount of force. He snapped the tendril back, eyes bulging slightly. Usually when he probed mortals with aether, he could tell something about their character, however slight, but aside from the color of her soul shining brighter than ever, any other detail might as well have been opaque to him. Even the Garlean third eye, which granted greater spatial awareness, was useless here. He could see her soul more clearly, yes, but he could not see anything else about her. And she had blocked his delving! Something had emerged from her aura to defend it, and it had seemed anything but involuntary.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"><em>That was a mistake</em>, he thought. He had no way of telling what he had let slip, if anything. He could defend himself against aetherial invasion as well, but being caught off guard for only a second was enough to let something of himself leak when attempting to probe others. That had not happened to him in recent memory.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Y’shtola gave no indication that she had noticed anything out of the ordinary, which was more an irritation than a relief. He would have expected no less from her. Unreadable as stone she was, and quite right too, for someone who had to remain stoic and reserved in their study of the world. He conceded for the nonce, went back to meeting her hips with his, though part of his mind continued to pick and prod at his doubts. He refused to call them worries.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As her sliding on top of him became more erratic—and even her breaths began to catch at irregular intervals—Emet-Selch felt familiar pressure gathering at the base of his cock, blooming to fill his loins with the sweet ache preceding release. He clenched at her sides more desperately now, and he was overcome by a nigh-irresistible urge to flip her over, push her down, and plunge into her deep and hard until he was finished, until his seed was expelled like a poison. Poison it was, when the lust gripping his mind had been inspired by a woman like Y’shtola. Well, she would probably not appreciate receiving the seed of an enemy, but the thought of doing it was sickly exhilarating, black and suffused with a happy miasma. It would be cruel, a petty way to seek revenge for warding off his aether probe, but why not? Y’shtola seemed to divine his intent, though—his muscles tightening, a slight shifting of his back against the undergrowth—and before he could do anything decisive, she had planted her legs firmly against the ground, her tail curling defensively around one leg, and his next thrust left him with only the will to force his cock further inside with her still on top, to feel the velvet of her cunt squeezing pleasure down his shaft.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What are you thinking?” she asked, as if she already knew.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I should rather like”—and his breath hitched; very shortly, but it did hitch—“to hold you down and fill you with my come. Gods, I want to do it. I <em>would </em>do it, but—“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But what? He was very close. He had forgotten what he was about to say. Hate was not the only thing that could rob you of cogent thought, and he had been a fool not to be more wary of that.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Three undulations more, three long strokes of her walls against his cock was all it took, but she lifted off of him at the last moment, freeing his length with a wet sound of release—seven hells, she would have known, wouldn’t she?—and he came, his body vibrating, his hands trembling even as they scored the black silk outlining her thighs. White hot lines of pleasure burned up his spine, burned in throbbing bursts down his legs. As he emptied he felt his cock stutter and bob against his belly, as if ashamed of what it had done. His come had landed on his chest, dribbling out in a few last furtive spurts as ecstasy ebbed. He was not certain if Y’shtola had reached her peak—she had been quite silent toward the end, holding him with that same steady gaze throughout. He half-suspected that if she had, she would not have advertised it in any easily discernible way.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">With a sniff of finality, the Miqo’te woman shifted off of him, standing up to readjust her dress over her hips so that it no longer rested askew. No tenderness to be had here. Her back turned—Emet-Selch did not want her to mistake his next action for an attack—he unleashed a quick flash of Fire aether to remove the mess from his chest. His coat was slightly disheveled beneath him, covered in dirt and leaves from their coupling. Grimacing, he pulled his undershirt back on and plucked the coat up, threading his arms through its sleeves. Y’shtola did not speak until Emet-Selch had gotten to his feet and finished dressing.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Did you really think I was going to let you spend yourself inside of me? You are delusional, Ascian.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. I did not think you would <em>let</em> me.” His tone said all.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Y’shtola clicked her tongue. “Well. It is a fortunate thing I managed to read what you were planning before you could actually do it. I should have known, vile man that you are.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“May I remind you that <em>you</em> were the one who wanted to fuck this ‘vile man’ in the first place?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">That was reckless of him, and he knew it; he waited for her retaliation, almost hoping for something he could lash out against. It would feel good. Now that lust had gone with his orgasm, only resentment and jealousy remained, and those were much less pleasant sensations overall.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There was also the matter of what she had gotten from this. As for himself, he had ascertained very little; in fact, even with his attempt to delve, he had not noticed anything particularly interesting about her aetherial signature despite a brighter aura and a light physical response when they had touched earlier. That was the bare extent of it.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Horrifyingly, it occurred to him that the resonance effect might be greater for the person who had been rescued from the Lifestream than for the person who had done the rescuing. Everything that had happened that night seemed to confirm it, from Y’shtola’s being drawn to him, to her sharpened senses upon making contact with his skin, to her swatting away his aetherial probing with ease. She had been very attuned to his movements and actions during their coupling as well.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She merely rolled her eyes at his latest vulgar comment. He had to say something—anything—to take his mind off of the nauseating but very real fact that he had been made a fool of to some degree.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Would you mind mending this little scratch nowthat we’re through, at least?” Emet-Selch tapped the top of the cut on his cheek pointedly. “My skills with white magic are woefully rusty, and I understand that you, dear Scion, are a healer as well as a scholar.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It will be a cold day in the seven hells when I willingly help you, Emet-Selch,” Y’shtola said. “We may have a bond of a sort, but that does not oblige you to take undue advantage. Let the scratch heal on its own. It will not kill you.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Undue advantage! <em>Him</em>! She had some nerve. His name did not sound quite so delectable on her tongue this time. She brushed her dress off absently, looking for all the world like she had just enjoyed a brisk walk through the woods, nothing more.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He ignored the rudeness; he had merely been going for another jab—one that had landed, admittedly, but that was not what was important at present. If he could not rouse her anger enough to make her strike out—or, better yet, to reveal anything to him...</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So no comparing of notes?” he asked, feigning disinterest. “No drawing up a schedule of future secret rendezvous? How will you get away from your friends for that, pray?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The look she gave him was for a lackwit. “I told you. Follow me now, or hint at anything that happened here to any of the others, and I will see you dead. Believe that.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes, yes, you needn’t stress your murderous intentions to me,” Emet-Selch sighed, frustration rising. “I heard you quite clearly the first time.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Good.” Y’shtola turned on her heel with a stiff nod, and began to walk away. Dismissing him like so much refuse. “Otherwise I would think you were hoping for another tryst. Understand that this will not happen again.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Just like that, she was done with him? Well, of course she would say that, but not a bell ago she had been prattling on about how she wanted to learn all he could teach about this miraculous bloody resonance. Surely she could not have discovered—could she...? That sickening truth was about to reveal itself to him, he knew, and it twisted his insides into tight red knots.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“That was all you needed, then? No future tutoring required? You will forgive me if I find that very hard to believe. Aetherology is a vast and complicated field, and not to be taken lightly.” He felt his frustration ticking ever upward, but managed to smooth it out of his tone.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She stopped for a moment, and with amusement in her voice she said, “One ‘lesson’ was enough indeed. I planned on learning much, and I did. I suppose I do owe you another round of thanks after all, though, one scholar to another.” She resumed her walk to the treeline.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She had learned something! She had gleaned something about the nature of aether—<em>his</em> aether!—that she would never share with him. Of course not, never with an Ascian! Had he accidentally leaked memories when touching her with that aetheric tendril, or had she discovered whatever it was on her own?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He had no godsdamned idea.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">For the shortest beat—for the first time since she had approached him—he was truly <em>there,</em> in the reality of the moment, seeing everything as clearly as she said she had him. The scales tipped, and anger flared hot and true in his heart. The absolute <em>gall</em> of this woman, to use him thus! Aetherial resonance be damned! The ancient Amaurotines were the stewards of the world’s knowledge, not these... these <em>creatures</em>! He felt an itching in his fingertips, a desire to kill her here, now, for coming to him with such cheek, for <em>stealing </em>insight from him like a tree ripe for the plucking. She had made him forget! Her, the undeserving shattered soul that she was! And he had taken it upon himself to <em>save</em> her!</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You are too kind,” he said. He could have been bidding her farewell; anger was everywhere but in his voice. The itching built into a gnawing pain, and as her muted footsteps carried her further away, aether coalesced in his palm, forming an ice-cold sphere of pure energy that would pierce her heart and snuff the life out of her before she hit the ground. Surely she could sense that, with their link—a link she understood so <em>bloody</em> well!—but she showed no sign of fear. No sign that she even noticed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Thank you, Emet-Selch,” Y’shtola said. “I daresay this was worth the risk.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And then she had gone far enough, disappearing into the thick shadow of the treeline. The ball of aether dissipated into the foggy air surrounding him, leaving his hand cool and empty. If she had remained a second longer—half a second—he would have done it, he would have struck her down without the slightest hint of regret, and the hero and her friends would have wept over her body come the morrow.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As it was, he had waited too long, and the chance had fled like a bird taking flight. So he let her go. He heard nothing else, of course, no footsteps—she would not have allowed that—and the trees were silent sentinels, swallowing the outline of her aura in a heartbeat’s span. He blinked, turning away, pushing anger down even as the cut in his cheek gave a twinge. The exhilaration of new knowledge was already a distant memory. Perhaps he would sift through that memory, would find a way to unearth something worthwhile from this night, but not for a long time. If ever. For now he must needs find a place to sleep. Yes, sleep and forget—that idea at least was comforting. It was like she had never been there at all. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you enjoyed this and feel so inclined, please join this lovely book club and yell about villains with me! https://discord.gg/FB8hqkD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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